The Art of Adjusting
by Harrygirlie
Summary: “Because,” he said softly, malice woven skillfully through his voice like a silver thread in a tapestry. “I’m privy to things I’m sure you’d very much like to know.”
1. New Beginnings

I'll admit, I was desperate for a change. shrug This story will always be my favorite fic, mostly because it was the first one I ever wrote, and consequently the one that really got me into the fandom (Imagine my shock when I discovered that gasp! I wasn't the only person on the face of the earth to go about writing my own HP tale!). But reading back over it recently, it hit me that this little yarn (two years in the making as of Christmas 2003...wow, so about 2 and ½ years now!!), which I began writing in eighth grade...really sounds like I began writing it in eighth grade (not dissing eight graders or anything, just saying that my writing style's changed immensely since then!). Therefore, having the whole summer ahead of me, I've begun to re-work it...tweaking it here and there, removing some really annoying clichés...just generally making it easier and more enjoyable to read! (I hope...heh.) So that said, I hope you like the new version! :D  
  
ciao!  
  
-hg-  
  
A/N: thoughts are denoted by asterisks surrounding the thought. italics and emphasized words are denoted by underscores on either side of the word.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Yeah, don't even make me say it. I don't own it. Duh.  
  
Chapter 1: New Beginnings  
  
In the sleepy wizarding town of Yorkville, in the American state of New York, there was a hill. A large grassy hill, upon which was perched a humongous wooden structure. A well-weathered sign reading "Willowfletcher's Institute of Higher Magical Learning" was hung above the massive front doors. The school, containing one-hundred-and-fifty rooms, had two small, square windows about every two yards, peeking into the crowded classrooms and dormitories.  
  
Inside the halls, seven hundred students, in their first through seventh years of schooling, raced to get to their next classes. A few stragglers dashed through the hallways to their wooden cupboards, to grab a forgotten supply or two, a slight dark-haired girl in 4th year among them. She hurriedly removed a large silver briefcase from her own cupboard, and took off running down the corridor.  
  
Breathless, she swept into the Potions classroom. The solid wooden door slammed behind her, rattling the assorted jars lining the walls of the brightly lit room. Blushing, she walked over to her seat and sat down, before unlocking the twin catches on the front of the case.  
  
As the lid swung open, Mrs. Carver gave her a withering look. "I trust you'll be on time tomorrow, Ms. Modello?"  
  
The girl nodded solemnly, trying to conceal a laugh. Mrs. Carver, in the process of scribbling the ingredients needed for a Sweetening Solution on the blackboard, hushed a few whispers and giggles.  
  
Reading off the recipe as the teacher wrote it, the tardy girl flipped open various small compartments in the box, pulling out such items as powdered horn of a unicorn and extract of nightshade.  
  
The remainder of the Potions class passed quickly, and soon, a note clutched in her thin hand, the young girl was walking at a quick pace toward the principal's office.  
  
Upon her arrival, she paused momentarily beside the frosted-glass door, took a steadying breath, and turned the brass doorknob. The girl stepped inside, and closed the door behind her quietly.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Mrs. Teague?" she inquired politely, although she was slightly nervous at the purpose of this summons. The steely-haired headmistress stood from her leather chair, showing the full extent of her imposing 6-foot frame.  
  
"Yes, Ms. Modello," she replied, a crisp British accent seeming to formalize her words. "Please sit down."  
  
The girl took a seat rather carefully in the pale green easy chair across from the principal's desk. Mrs. Teague remained standing for another moment, then drew her leather chair up behind her and sat back down. Her broad build rose and fell as she heaved a deep breath.  
  
"Ms. Modello, I've summoned you to my office to discuss a very important matter. You see..." For a moment, her voice faltered, as though she was not confident in her next words. Despite this, she tarried no longer. "I believe, as do your teachers, that our material is...er, holding you back, so to speak."  
  
A confused expression crossed the student's face. "What on earth do you mean by that?" she asked, bewildered.  
  
"Well, it seems that you are advancing in not only the quality of your abilities, but your understanding of them, at a quite faster rate than your classmates."  
  
The girl stared at her headmistress for a moment, before stammering in shock. "Mrs. Teague, I-I don't think so. I think you've got the wrong girl- "  
  
The woman gave her a faint smile. "You know we love having you here, Kelsey," she said, her voice warming quickly. "It's just that...well...you need a better program. We can't keep up with you and it is impossible to move you up a year, I-"  
  
"But that's ridiculous!" Kelsey protested. "And why would moving me up be impossible?"  
  
Mrs. Teague continued speaking as though she had not been interrupted. "- I've corresponded with the headmaster of another wizarding school, Albus Dumbledore. He has reviewed the situation and agrees with me. I am pleased to give you this." As Mrs. Teague spoke, she handed Kelsey an envelope, and gave her a firm handshake.  
  
Still more than a little puzzled, Kelsey warily took the envelope from Mrs. Teague's hand. She carefully removed the red wax seal stamped across the flap of the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the folded slip of paper it contained. Another, smaller piece of parchment fell out of the envelope. She picked it up, unfolded the larger paper, and began to read.  
  
Dear Miss Modello,  
  
Your headmistress, Mrs. Teague, has informed me of your special situation. Knowing that your father went to Hogwarts, and admittance as a legacy is plausible, I have reviewed this situation to the furthest possible extent, and, after consulting my staff and giving much thought, I have come to a conclusion. I am happy to inform you of your acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed, you will find a sheet printed with the supply list for fifth years. Mrs. Teague has informed me that you are up to par on your courses, so you will be able to join our fifth years right away in their studies. Please purchase the listed materials, and I will see you on September the First!  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Albus Dumbledore,  
  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
  
"So...you're telling me I'm supposed to go to this Hogwarts place for my fifth year?" Kelsey asked incredulously, looking up from the letter to meet her headmistress' coal-black eyes. "Where is this school, anyway? I've never even heard of it!"  
  
Mrs. Teague sighed, tucking a stray wisp of gunmetal hair back into the severe bun at the nape of her neck. "I'm not at liberty to discuss its precise location, but I can tell you it is in the United Kingdom."  
  
Kelsey bolted upright in her chair, bluish eyes round. "I'm going to school ABROAD?!"  
  
!!!  
  
Across the Atlantic Ocean, a fifteen-year-old wizard named Harry Potter woke with a start. His hand automatically flew to his scar, but oddly enough, it was not burning, as it usually did when a dream woke him.  
  
"An American? At Hogwarts?" he said aloud, wondering if the ridiculous notion was just that, a random product of his nighttime brain.  
  
In the murky dimness of the morning sunlight filtering through the blinds at his window, he fumbled atop his bedside table for paper and quill. Finding a barely-inked quill and a sheaf of parchment, he jotted a short message to each Hermione and Ron, tore the paper into two pieces, and crossing the room, took his owl Hedwig from her cage and tied the notes to her legs. He gave her an affectionate stroke under her beak before sending her off through the open window.  
  
Harry had just climbed back into his still-warm bed, trying to catch a few more moments of sleep before the Dursleys woke him for breakfast, when Aunt Petunia's piercing voice barking suddenly at him from outside his bedroom door drove away all such hope.  
  
"Get up, you lazy brute! That crusty old man is coming to get you today!" Petunia shrilled, banging on the door with her bony fist.  
  
"Coming, Aunt Petunia," he replied, loud enough for her to hear that he was awake and thusly cease her shrieking. He quickly pulled on a plain black T- shirt and almost-unwrinkled jeans, flung his door open, and raced down the stairs. He had almost forgotten! Professor Dumbledore was coming today, to escort him to his best friend Ron Weasley's house. For the rest of the summer, he thought, immense relief coupling with his excitement.  
  
He arrived in the kitchen just as Uncle Vernon was rattling his newspaper open. A large picture of a glaring man in handcuffs spanned the front page, topped with the headline "RUDD'S CAPTURE PUTS END TO CRIME SPREE IN NORTHERN SURREY."  
  
"Bacon and eggs today, boy," Vernon barked from behind the printed page, without so much as a "good morning". Lowering the sheet for a moment, he narrowed his already incredibly small eyes at his nephew. "And make it fast. That Dumble crackpot is coming today..." At this point he paused, a contemptuous sneer twisting beneath his thick blond mustache. "To take you to...to the Wheezys', or whatever they're called."  
  
Harry dropped only three pieces of bacon on the griddle (he was far too excited to eat), and pulled the egg carton out of the refrigerator. He cracked open the eggs, and, one-by-one, dripped their yellow contents into a skillet.  
  
Aunt Petunia bustled into the kitchen just then, one of her bony arms clutching her Diddy-kins round the waist, with considerable difficulty, bearing in mind his immense girth. They took their seats at the table, Petunia beaming at her son. Dudley, however, was not in the best of moods and began almost immediately to whine for his breakfast.  
  
"Mum, can't he cook any faster?" he griped to Petunia.  
  
"Don't worry, darling, breakfast's almost ready," she simpered, patting her son's fleshy forearm before sending a murderous glance at Harry over her shoulder.  
  
Harry, fighting to prevent showing any outward signs of his irritation, transferred the eggs and bacon to three waiting plates. Attempting not to scowl, he brought the dishes over to the table and set them down rather carefully in front of his aunt, uncle and cousin. And not a single 'thank you', he thought in resignation.  
  
Just as Harry was sitting down with a small glass of orange juice, the doorbell chimed. A grin split his face as Harry leapt up and rushed through the excessively clean house, until he reached the front room. Happier than he'd felt in weeks, Harry swung the front door open, immediately feeling the warmth of the summer day rush in to meet him. "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore!" he greeted.  
  
"Good morning, Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore returned, his eyes glittering. He reached up to adjust his spectacles, and Harry started.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry! Won't you come in?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded graciously at this, and stepped inside the doorjamb. Harry noted that the headmaster had taken pains to appear slightly more acceptable to the Muggle eye, in order not to arouse suspicion of any sort. In lieu of his usual colorful robes, at lengths so as to sweep the floor, he wore a simple black traveling cloak, fastened in such a way that one could not really discern any other articles of clothing beneath it. Also noticeable only in its absence was his pointed wizard's hat, instead leaving Dumbledore's cottony hair to gleam palely in the morning sunlight.  
  
By now, the Dursleys had come to stand beside Harry, not content to let another wizard just waltz freely into their home. A look of fear did nothing to soften Petunia's angular, horsey features, and the expression was mirrored, or perhaps magnified, on Dudley's flabby face. Both demeanors understandable, seeing as how the last time a full-grown wizard had entered their home, Dudley had ended up with a four-foot slimy tongue lolling out of his mouth.  
  
Dumbledore smiled genially at Harry's family. "And you must be the Dursleys. What a well-kept home you have!" The look of fear remained, but Aunt Petunia's grimace wavered slightly at this genuine compliment.  
  
"So...where are your things, Harry? We really should be going soon," Dumbledore said, peering around the entry good-naturedly.  
  
"I'll go get them, they're just upstairs," Harry answered, before hurrying up to his room, leaving the wary Dursleys alone with the elderly wizard.  
  
When Harry returned, lugging his trunk down the stairs behind him, none of the Muggles had started to yell or carry on, to his relief.  
  
Several minutes later, Harry, Professor Dumbledore, and Harry's school things were all together on the front porch. "Well...er...I guess we'll be off, then. Um...g'bye Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley." Harry grabbed the handle of his trunk and hefted it down the front walk to the Ministry car waiting in the driveway. The driver, a tall, swarthy man, smiled at him and helped load his things into the open boot of the car.  
  
Having taken care of his luggage, Harry opened the back door and was just lowering himself onto the leather seat, when a quick glance showed Dumbledore still to be standing on the front stoop. Oh, no, Harry groaned inwardly.  
  
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley?" Dumbledore asked, his tone nothing but pleasant.  
  
Vernon looked as though he were about to refuse, but Dumbledore leveled him with the light-blue stare Harry knew so well.  
  
"Goodbye, then, Harry," Uncle Vernon said stiffly, swallowing hard. Murmurs could be heard from Aunt Petunia and Dudley as well.  
  
"Farewell." Dumbledore inclined his head in a partial bow, then turned from the Dursleys and strode down the front walk to the waiting car.  
  
As they pulled out of the driveway and into the street, Harry barely heard Dumbledore request to be taken to the Burrow. He watched 4 Privet Drive sink out of sight amongst the identical rows of houses, as the Ministry car bore him away to a much more enjoyable summer.  
  
!!!  
  
When they arrived at the Burrow, most of the Weasley clan, excepting, of course, Bill and Charlie, stood in the yard, grinning and waving, as the black Ministry car bumped and trundled down the dusty, rutted drive.  
  
Even before the vehicle had come to a complete stop, Ron rushed over and flung open the door for Harry. "Hey, mate!" he greeted, grinning wide beneath his vibrant, floppy hair.  
  
Harry wholeheartedly returned Ron's enthusiasm, and stepped out of the backseat, stretching his legs after the considerable car ride.  
  
As soon as the Ministry chauffeur had unloaded Harry's trunk and Hedwig's empty cage, Ron seized him by the inside of his right elbow. "I got your owl," he whispered, casting a wary look back at his parents, who were striding quickly over. "Come on, let's get your stuff up to my room."  
  
Ron grabbed Hedwig's cage, and Harry grasped the handle of his trunk. But before they could so much as drag the luggage past the car, Mrs. Weasley dashed over and grabbed Harry up in one of the tightest hugs he'd ever experienced. "Glad to see you looking so well, dear," she said, her tone that of immense relief. Harry could easily imagine her worry as she waited for him to arrive in the Muggle way.  
  
Dumbledore stepped out of the cab, and smilingly shook Mr. Weasley's hand. "I really appreciate you taking Harry in again, Arthur, Molly. I am much obliged."  
  
Once Harry had worked his way out of Mrs. Weasley's embrace, repeatedly reassuring her that he was fine and had been having a perfectly normal summer up until now, he and Ron made a bit more hastily towards the house, anxious to get out of earshot from the rest of the family.  
  
Just as Harry reached the door to house, setting his trunk down briefly on the cobblestones in order to get a better grip on the now slightly sweaty handle, the door flew open. A flame-haired girl rushed past him, then stopped. Spinning on her heel, Ginny Weasley came running right back over to Harry, to his immense surprise.  
  
"Hey, Harry! Good to see you!" she exclaimed, smiling at him and, shockingly, meeting his gaze dead-on. Harry was rather relieved that Ginny did not seem nearly as uncomfortable around him as she had been since he'd known her, although he did notice the faintest tinge of pink blooming in the apples of her cheeks.  
  
"Hi, Ginny," he replied, returning her smile. Then, grasping his trunk, he hauled it through the open doorway, Ron following right behind him.  
  
Moving quickly into the house, Harry groaned inwardly when they reached the staircase.  
  
Ron must have seen Harry's face, because a beat later, Ron reached over and took the trunk from Harry. "I'll take it, Harry. You go ahead." Taking the birdcage from Ron's hand, Harry swiftly climbed the stairs.  
  
As soon as they reached Ron's room, as vivid orange as ever, the boys both dropped their burdens. Harry, spotting Hedwig perched on the windowsill, crossed the room to greet her, while Ron shut the door behind them.  
  
Harry held out a hand, on which Hedwig eagerly alighted, and Ron, collapsing back onto his Cannons bedcover, cut to the chase.  
  
"So, this dream you had...you don't think it's true, do you?"  
  
Harry sighed and slid down to sit on the floor. "I don't know what to think. I mean, usually only my dreams that have something to do with Voldemort-" Harry pretended not to see Ron's obvious wince at the name. "- have any grain of truth to them."  
  
He paused, thoughtfully stroking Hedwig's snowy down and staring at a particularly large crack in the ceiling above his head.  
  
"But, just the same...I can't see how I possibly could have dreamed in such detail otherwise."  
  
Ron pulled himself to a sitting position, his expression puzzled. "Well, do you think this means that this...uh..."  
  
"Kelsey Modello," Harry supplied, guessing Ron was stumped for the mysterious girl's name.  
  
"Yeah. So, do you think this Kelsey is connected with You-Know-Who?" Ron continued, quirking a ginger eyebrow at his best friend.  
  
Harry frowned. I hadn't really thought of that. "Well, I hope not...but maybe my scar would've hurt, in that case. I really don't know..."  
  
Ron nodded slightly. "And she's American! An American at Hogwarts! That is such a strange thing to think about."  
  
As they were musing over such thoughts, a tawny brown owl swooped in Ron's open window, and dropped a note on the floor next to Harry. He picked it up, and unfolded it. It read:  
  
Harry,  
  
An American? At Hogwarts?? Are you sure? It's possible your dream could actually be true, but I wouldn't count on it just yet. Hope you're safe and sound at the Burrow. Oh, and send the details by return owl. The description you gave me of you dream was rather sparse.  
  
Write soon!  
  
Hermione  
  
"Well," Harry said after scanning through the lines of Hermione's curly handwriting. "Doesn't seem like Hermione has any answers, either."  
  
Ron was silent for a moment, picking at a worn spot in his threadbare comforter. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded forcedly casual. "So, er...what did this Kelsey girl...look like, anyway?"  
  
Harry hid his grin, and shrugged. "I didn't get much of a look at her face, but she had dark hair, she wasn't tall—about Hermione's height—and she was fairly thin. That's about all I can tell you."  
  
"But, think of it this way," Harry added, grinning, as Ron finally looked up at him. "If she's even a real person, we might be seeing her at school as it is!" 


	2. Summer Days

Harry had spent an entire contented month with the Weasleys before he even gave a thought to the upcoming school year.  
  
He woke up wonderfully late one morning, the sun casting its golden brilliance over the cot on which he lay. As consciousness slowly dissipated the fog of sleep, a thought came jarringly into his brain.  
  
"Hey, Ron?"  
  
Ron's groggy voice sounded from the depths of his orange covers. "Whaat?" he said blearily.  
  
"Is Gringotts the only wizarding bank?"  
  
Ron sat up, an eyebrow quirked. "Not at all."  
  
Harry fell silent.  
  
A confused look slid onto Ron's face. "Why?"  
  
Harry took a breath, but paused thoughtfully before speaking. "I was just wondering...if Kelsey were to come over to Diagon Alley before school, we might see her." He frowned. "But if she doesn't need to come to Gringotts, I can't see that she'd have much of a reason to come to London at all, except maybe to ride the Hogwarts Express."  
  
Ron didn't seem able to think up an adequate answer, so he simply shrugged his bony shoulders and ran his fingers through the elaborate crimson bed- hair with which he was so fashionably endowed.  
  
"Boys! Time for breakfast! Fred, George, Ron, Harry! Get up, get up!" Mrs. Weasley hollered from the bottom of the stairs. Harry and Ron groaned, and trudged out into the hallway, where a drowsy pair of twins was just beginning a very noisy descent down the staircase.  
  
Fred, George, Harry and Ron entered the fragrant kitchen, all taking their seats at the breakfast table where Mr. Weasley, Ginny, and Percy already sat. Mrs. Weasley bustled about, setting down platters of food here and there, until the entire length of the table was creaking beneath incredible amounts of fried eggs, sausage links, flapjacks the size of Harry's entire head, and several pitchers of golden-brown syrup.  
  
Once Mrs. Weasley had finally taken her seat and begun to sip at her orange juice, Percy cleared his throat. "There's been a bit of a rough patch at the Ministry," he began, affecting an air of importance.  
  
"Yeah," Fred stage-whispered to Harry and Ron. "They're having trouble figuring out how to get rid of him." Harry hid his smile in a forkful of sausage.  
  
Percy shot Fred a supercilious glare from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and Harry was at once reminded of the sheer number of such glares he and his friends had received, when Percy had been a prefect, and later Head Boy during their previous years of school.  
  
"The problem is this bloody American school," Percy continued, voice dripping with disdain. "Willowfletcher's." He shoveled a great bite of eggs into his mouth, dabbed at his lips daintily with his napkin , and saw fit to keep speaking.  
  
"Odd thing they're doing, really. Seems they're shipping a few of their students off to other schools, no real reason for it if you ask me, no matter what the headmistress claims."  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged a look of astonishment.  
  
"Isn't that the school Kelsey was going to?" Ron asked, so quietly that he was hardly audible. Harry, however, caught the gist of his question and nodded, decidedly keeping an ear open to Percy's surprisingly useful gossip.  
  
"Cornelius thinks it extremely suspicious, of course." Harry heard Ron strangle a laugh next to him. After his previous employer, Mr. Crouch, had met a rather untimely end, Percy was employed as assistant to the Minister of Magic himself. Unfortunately, this development did nothing to deflate Percy's swollen ego.  
  
"Nothing's set in stone yet, but apparently Dumbledore's already written the headmistress, consenting to take in one of the students," Percy said knowledgably. Harry felt Ron elbow him, rather hard, actually, in the ribs.  
  
"So it's true," he murmured, giving Harry a stunned look. "We'll have to owl Hermione."  
  
Harry and Ron rinsed off their perfectly empty dishes and set them in the sink, then raced upstairs to pen an informative letter to Hermione.  
  
Harry paused in his writing, and asked Ron absently, "D'you think I should send one to Sirius, too?"  
  
Ron looked thoughtful for a minute. "If you really want to. It's not that important, though, is it?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Here, how does this sound?" He handed Ron the sheaf of parchment, black ink thrown across it in Harry's untidy scrawl.  
  
Hermione, According to Percy, an American school, Willowfletcher's, is sending students off to other schools, and Dumbledore's agreed to take on one of them. We're assuming this is Kelsey, but we're not sure yet. But we definitely know that Willowfletcher's was the school in my dream. On another note, we're going to Diagon Alley on August 26th. Meet you in the Leaky Cauldron. Hope we have more news for you then. Best Wishes,  
  
Harry  
  
Ron handed the letter back to Harry once he'd finished reading it. "It's fine."  
  
Harry nodded, rolled up the note, and opened the door of Hedwig's cage. Gently removing the snowy owl, he unwrapped a bit of toast from a napkin in his pocket, and held it out for her to take.  
  
While Hedwig munched the marmalade-smeared toast, Harry tied the letter to her leg. After finishing her breakfast, Hedwig nipped Harry's finger tenderly, and set off through the open window. For a moment, her blinding white could be seen, brilliant against the blue sky, but she soon shrank into the distance.  
  
Harry had hardly even begun to have his fill of sun-drenched days at the Burrow, when August, quite suddenly, began to creep past.  
  
One slow, pleasant day mid-month, Harry decided to attempt extracting a little more information out of Percy.  
  
"So Percy...what's this student's name, this American coming to Hogwarts?" Harry asked him, in a way he privately thought to sound quite innocent.  
  
Percy looked lost for a moment. "Well, Harry, you see...that is to say..." He paused, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. "I'm not sure. But I'll be sure to check with Cornelius." Then his pompousness returned, as quickly as it had taken hiatus. "If, in fact, it is information that I am permitted to share with you, I will, of course, let you know."  
  
Harry attempted to tone down the excitement in his voice, in favor of humble gratitude. "Great. Thanks."  
  
That evening, Percy unknowingly shoved another puzzle piece into place.  
  
"Well, Harry, seeing as how you wanted to know, the Willowfletcher's student is a fifth-year girl, Kelsey Modello." Percy shook his head slightly, as though not understanding something. "Why her parents moved to America I'll never know, but the Modellos are actually from London. Kelsey would've already been going to Hogwarts, like her father, but—"  
  
"Her father went to Hogwarts?" Harry broke in without thinking.  
  
Percy gave him an odd look. "Yes, I did say that, didn't I?"  
  
Harry quickly backpedaled. "I just, er, wasn't sure I'd heard you right." He flashed Percy a bright grin. "Well, thanks for finding out for me!"  
  
With that, Harry dashed off to tell Ron. Letting the screened door bang open behind him, he jogged into the grassy yard where the four youngest Weasleys were playing a rather haphazard game of Quidditch.  
  
As Harry came up to the playing area, Ron tossed an apple through an enchanted circle, obviously drawn into the air with a wand.  
  
"Goal!" he shouted happily. "Harry, maybe I ought to try out for Chaser this year, eh?" Harry grinned in response, but quickly sent Ron a meaningful look. "I need to talk to you."  
  
Ron appeared puzzled, but brought his Cleansweep Seven down to the ground just the same. After dismounting his broom, he followed Harry over just out of earshot of the others. There was little chance of being overheard, however: Fred and George were rather exuberantly using paddles to hit apples at gnomes darting between holes down in the garden, and Ginny was attempting to juggle three of the fruits they'd been using as Quaffles.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. But I've just found out something. Percy told it to me."  
  
Ron did not yet appear much less confused than before. "Let's hear it."  
  
A wide smile broke over Harry's face. "Kelsey Modello is coming to Hogwarts."  
  
All too soon, it seemed, the morning of August 26th arrived, tinged with summer's-end bitterness. For Harry, it had been the best summer of his life, aside from attending the Quidditch World Cup the year before. And now, it was drawing steadily to a close.  
  
After the heavy breakfast Harry was becoming accustomed to, Mrs. Weasley shooed all of the teenagers upstairs to get dressed.  
  
"We'll be leaving soon, so don't dawdle."  
  
A quarter-hour later, the Weasleys and Harry had congregated at the fireplace. Harry felt his stomach lurch rather suddenly. To his immense displeasure, the method of transportation was Floo powder, possibly his least favorite of all wizarding inventions.  
  
When everyone was as ready as they would ever be, Mr. Weasley flung a bit of what looked like sparkling white ashes into the fireplace. Brilliant green flames sprang immediately from the hearth, their vivid emerald as ominous as ever, in Harry's opinion.  
  
Mr. Weasley stepped into said flames, shouted, "Diagon Alley!", and vanished. Harry nervously stepped forth to do the same, preferring to get the experience done and over with as quickly as possible.  
  
After the somewhat disagreeable spinning and whirling feeling of using Floo powder, Harry stopped safe and sound in Diagon Alley. Relief rippled warmly through him, and he stepped out of the hearth to find Mr. Weasley.  
  
A few moments later, the rest of the Weasleys had arrived, all except for Percy, who had stayed at the Burrow to work on some very "confidential" Ministry work. Harry privately thought it to be codswallop, but wasn't about to complain that Percy hadn't come.  
  
"Mum, after we go to Gringotts, Harry and I are gonna meet Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron." Ron informed his mother matter-of-factly.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed, tugging at the hem of her crocheted housedress. "I guess that means I'll be getting your schoolbooks together for you. Very well."  
  
The cool, dim interior of Gringotts bank was not quite as pleasant to look at as its snowy white marble front. But just the sheer size of the place, not to mention the fact that it contained most of the wizarding money in the United Kingdom, gave Harry pause.  
  
As he and Ron stood in line with the rest of the Weasleys, Harry looked around. In the line next to him, a woman in an overlarge feathered hat was searching frantically through her handbag for her key, while the surly goblin helping her could not easily have looked less amused.  
  
Harry's eyes swept up to the Head Goblin's desk, up near the front of the room, and nearly fell out of their sockets. A rather petite girl with dark hair falling down her back was standing next to a very tall, very broad, very hairy man.  
  
Harry nudged Ron, possibly a little too roughly. "Look up there, Ron."  
  
Ron scowled and massaged his side where he'd been elbowed, and turned to glance up where Harry indicated. Instantly, his face went slack. "Who's that with Hagrid up there?"  
  
Harry felt a grin play at his lips. "Who do you think?" 


	3. First Impressions

Here it is....reworked chapter three....quite a bit of improvement, thank God....

kisses

HG

And it was indeed Kelsey Modello that stood at the head of the room, flanked on her left by Hogwart's half-giant gamekeeper.

"Hagrid!" Harry and Ron shouted in unison, running up to the Head Goblin's desk. Hagrid, who had just been handed what was certainly the key to Kelsey's vault, turned around at the sound of the familiar voices.

"Well, I wasn't expectin' to see you two for another week!" Hagrid's broad face broke into a grin, despite his mouth being half-hidden in his massive coal-black beard. "Kelsey, these two are goin' to be your classmates, up at Hogwarts."

Kelsey turned around to face Harry and Ron, already smiling. Harry began mentally assessing her before he even knew what he was doing. _Not bad,_ he conceded silently. _Ron ought to be happy._ She was also, he noted, dressed every bit the Muggle. A low-glancing black tank top, rather ratty-looking army-green pants, and even a silver-and-black studded wristband at one of her thin wrists.

Ron, usually the more forward of the two, stood for a few moments with that same slack look on his face. He finally began to extend his hand, presumably to shake Kelsey's, but she ignored it and threw her arms around him instead.

"Hey! ...What did you say your name was?"

She broke away to look at Ron's face, and Harry noted with a silent mixture of amusement and commiseration that his best friend was showcasing his famous ineptitude with girls.

"Un...I'm...Ron. Ron...Ron Weasley." And as the words left his mouth, in a bit more of a murmur than usual, a deep crimson flooded his cheeks.

Harry opened his mouth to introduce himself as well. He had hardly begun to speak, ("I'm-") when Kelsey let out a little shriek. She just as soon clapped her hand over her mouth, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," she whispered, glancing around to see if she'd bothered anyone too much with her outburst. "It's just...you're Harry Potter!"

_Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you_, Harry thought rather uncharitably, but wisely chose not to speak his mind.

"It's all right...I get that all the time," he replied truthfully. He forced a grin; however, it hit him just about then that she hadn't exactly made a scene. No reason to be rude. The grin became a real one, and Harry had hardly drawn another breath before Kelsey launched herself onto him as well.

"Absolutely _amazing_ to meet you!" she gushed before releasing him from the clasp.

Harry barely nodded, feeling a flush creep over his own cheeks as well.

"So, what year are you guys in?" Kelsey asked, giving them each a hopeful look. "Fifth?"

They both answered "Yes!" promptly.

"Awesome." She smiled again, and her blue-gray eyes sparkled. Her eyes. _Odd,_ Harry thought. _Her eyes are nearly the same color as Malfoy's, but different..._ A moment's furtive inspection, and he concluded that they somehow seemed warmer.

"So...tell me something about Hogwarts!" Kelsey said enthusiastically, trailing a hand absently through her slightly tangled tresses.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the infectious energy the girl gave off. Even her stance, all her weight on her left leg and gently popping her right knee out, added to the overall impression of bounciness she displayed.

"Well..." Harry began, casting about in his mind for what Kelsey could possibly need to know out of the numerous things he could tell her about Hogwarts.

"It's a giant castle, with all these-these ghosts and moving staircases and stuff!" Ron interjected, suddenly manic.

Kelsey giggled, in such a way that caused Ron to begin to resemble a very self-conscious plum.

"So, have you shopped yet?" Harry asked, rather slowly. It didn't occur to him for quite a number of seconds that this was an incredibly stupid thing to ask, seeing as how she had not even yet visited her vault.

"Not quite. No money." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but the wink she threw in made it clear that she was only teasing.

"...But of course," Harry managed to pull off a fairly decent response, but couldn't help feeling rather an idiot. _Always the one to make great first impressions, I am_.

It was then that a thought suddenly broke into his mind, like a wave splintering against the beach.

"Your money's _here_? At Gringotts?"

Kelsey gave him an odd look, and when she spoke, it was in the manner with which one would address a particularly inquisitive child. "Yes...I've got my key with me and everything..."

"But aren't you American?"

Kelsey's eyes narrowed slightly, confusion evident in her features. "Yes, I am. What's that got to do with anything?"

Harry felt slightly impatient, and he feared this carried over into his voice. "It just seems odd...why are you getting your money all the way over here, in London?"

Kelsey paused for a moment, staring at Harry. Then comprehension dawned, and she smiled, seeming relieved to have caught Harry's meaning.

"My parents are from here, and they have an account over here as well as at the branch back home. I guess it is sort of strange."

Harry nodded in response, then decided to tell Kelsey more about Hogwarts, seeing as how he couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"Well, you'll have to be Sorted, I suppose. You sit in the front of the Great Hall, and they put this-"

"...Ratty old hat on your head, and it tells you what house you belong in, except you don't want to be put in Slytherin, there's not a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin," Ron prattled at a blistering pace, seeming determined to say everything that popped into his head.

Kelsey giggled. "Ron, slow down. You're going to spontaneously combust or something, if you keep that up!"

Ron stopped speaking immediately, his face taking on a red to rival his hair.

"Well, I'd better be going, but I assume I'll see you two at Hogwarts?" she asked. "I need to get my money," at this she winked at Harry. "You know, to shop with. Bye!"

With that, she flounced off to where Hagrid had engaged Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in conversation. After tapping him on the shoulder, she grinned at him and motioned back to where a goblin was waiting to take them to the vault, a sour expression on its wrinkled face.

Harry and Kelsey walked over just in time to hear Kelsey buoyantly introducing herself to Ron's parents, Ginny, Fred, and George.

"I'm really so excited to be coming to Hogwarts, I've never gone to any other school but Willowfletcher's."

Mrs. Weasley simply nodded, beaming at the girl she'd just met, but Mr. Weasley leant forward, an eager expression on his face.

"Did you know any Muggles, back in America?"

Mrs. Weasley promptly hit his arm rather smartly with her purse, but Kelsey only laughed.

"Certainly. It's odd, in America, the Muggles and witches and wizards all kind of... mesh their culture...I think we're more involved with Muggle things, like music and movies...it's hard to stay separate, really." Kelsey shrugged, then turned to Hagrid.

"Sorry, big guy. We really should be going."

Hagrid nodded, not even seeming fazed by the unusual way in which Kelsey had addressed him. He clapped an enormous hand the size of a platter on her slender shoulder, and led her off towards the mine carts. Harry was quite sure he was not imagining the slight green tinge to the half-giant's face: Hagrid loathed riding down to the vaults.

It was Mrs. Weasley's voice that made Harry (and Ron, he noticed) turn back around from watching Kelsey leave.

"Well, I've got our keys, let's go, shall we?" With that, the Weasleys and Harry all followed a particularly squat goblin down the passage Kelsey and Hagrid had passed through not a moment before.

The ride to Harry's vault was a bumpy one, slightly less comfortable than riding a bucking broom. Every dip in the tracks that the mine cart heavily followed brought a bit more green to the faces of Ron and Mr. Weasley.

Quite suddenly, the cart screeched to a halt, throwing its riders roughly forward. Harry had hardly righted himself when Mrs. Weasley gently prodded his shoulder. "That's your vault, dear."

Harry nodded, and stepped out of the cart. Mrs. Weasley handed him his key with a maternal smile, and Harry in turn gave the key to the diminutive goblin standing at the vault door.

A turn of the key, and the well-aged door of the vault swung slowly open, revealing piles upon piles of glittering coins. Harry resisted the urge to cast a nervous look back at the Weasleys; instead, he very nearly leapt into the vault, shoving the money into his leather bag as quickly as possible. He definitely didn't want to prolong the poorer family's view of his cushy bank account.

The sound of the vault door clanging shut sent relief through Harry, as he climbed back into the mine cart (actually rather rickety, he noticed).

Almost before he'd sat down, the cart began to once again take the tracks at breakneck speed. Harry fell back onto the seat, and saw stars for a moment when the solid black rim of the cart struck him at the base of his skull. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he leaned forward, bracing himself against the sides of the cart in order to bounce around less.

"So, what'd you think of that girl, eh?" Ginny said conversationally. Harry started, not having noticed he'd sat down next to her.

"Er," Harry stated articulately.

Ginny laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's what I thought."

_What on earth is she talking about_? Harry wondered, casting a rather suspicious glance at Ron's sister, who'd turned back to face the other direction. And it was, in fact, an odd way for Ginny to be acting. Perhaps he just wasn't used to being around her, but he'd been under the (very strong) impression that she had a crush on him. And here she was, asking him how he liked some girl! _Very strange._

After their visit to Gringotts, Harry and Ron made their hurried way to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Hermione.

Shoving through a maze of empty chairs, the two finally ended up at the table where Hermione sat with three mugs of Butterbeer.

"Hello, there!" she said brightly. "Pull up a chair," she gestured around the half-empty pub. "There're plenty to choose from."

Harry laughed and grabbed the nearest wooden chair. Ron did the same, and soon they were all three sitting around the table, sipping at the mugs brimming with frothy butterbeer.

As the unique warmth slid down his throat, Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We met her."

Hermione looked startled; this had obviously not been the news she'd expected.

"You met her," she repeated. "Well...?"

Harry shrugged. "She seemed...relatively normal. A bit on the bouncy side."

Ron turned to his best friend, a fresh flush overcoming the traces of sickly jade left from the ride at Gringotts.

"What's wrong with that?"

Harry suppressed a laugh, with difficulty, and upon finding himself quite unable to speak without letting it out, he nudged Hermione under the table.

"Nothing, Ron," she responded, rolling her eyes. The three took to their drinks for a long few moments before anyone spoke again.

"But she didn't mention why she'd been transferred?" Hermione finally said, fixing both Harry and Ron with a serious look.

Harry shrugged. "We really didn't much get into our life stories, Hermione. We talked for maybe five minutes, and then she left to get her money."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I'm certain we'll see our way to finding out."

It was then that Ron piped up, a bit unnecessarily. "I'll find out all about it, if you like."

Hermione snorted. "I doubt you could string together three coherent words around her, much less interrogate her," she said caustically.

Ron's face contorted angrily, and Harry groaned and excused himself to use the restroom before the fireworks had a chance to start. You couldn't pay him _enough_ to sit in the middle of one of their roaring arguments. He slipped around the corner, and, upon chancing a look back at his two best friends, was met with the sight of Ron and Hermione nearly at each other's throats.

Harry sighed in resignation. _What else is new_?


	4. Sortings and Flirtations

Just for you, J.B. ;-)

HG-

While the new school year had been gradually growing larger on the horizon, Harry had dreaded its arrival. But, now that it was finally here, he felt _very_ glad to be going back to Hogwarts.

The morning of their departure, the Weasley family and Harry ate a hurried breakfast of toast and eggs (rather light when compared to the breakfasts they'd normally had). Harry and Ron continued to sit at the breakfast table while the others went to double-check their luggage, but Mrs. Weasley ordered them to do the same. Grumbling, Ron led the way.

It took another hour or so for everyone to get ready and be sure they had everything (it wasn't too hard for Harry, seeing as how he'd brought everything he needed already packed when he first arrived at the Burrow). Once Mrs. Weasley had checked their bags to her satisfaction, the entire clan, plus Harry, piled into the Ministry car that Mr. Weasley had reserved for the occasion. Magically expanded, they all fit comfortably inside, making the ride to King's Cross all the more pleasant.

The Weasley children and Harry had already been through this drill numerous times, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said their goodbyes without crossing through the barrier. Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a tearful hug, kissing him on the cheek. "Be safe, be careful," she whispered to him, and Harry's heart wrenched painfully. The concern in her voice was enough to make tears prickle hotly at the back of his eyes, and it was a lucky thing that she released him before the extra moisture could make itself visible.

Mr. Weasley clasped Harry's hand in a firm handshake. So firm, in fact, that he swore he could hear his bones crackling. "Have a good year, Harry. Wonderful to have you stay with us," Mr. Weasley said enthusiastically, beaming.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over her children for a few moments more, and as soon as she was done with Ron, Harry felt a hand close about his elbow. "Let's go," Ron muttered, rubbing at the lipstick mark on his cheek.

They ran through the barrier, entering immediately into the Wizarding world. The air was infused with smoke from the gleaming crimson Hogwarts Express stationed just ahead. Harry and Ron just hardly managed to hoist their luggage up into the train after them; somehow their trunks felt heavier than ever.

They settled into the first empty compartment they came across, and were soon joined by Fred, George, and Ginny. Fred and George sat down and had just begun to loudly play Exploding Snap, when a knock sounded at the compartment door.

Harry, nearest to the door, slid it open to allow Hermione to step inside. "Hello, everyone," she greeted with a sort of forced brightness. Harry noted that there was a rather prominent pink tint to her cheeks. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she caught his eyes and shook her head, just barely.

They'd been having a pleasant hour playing card games when the plump little witch drew up outside their door, pushing a cart brimming with sweets. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked kindly, her demeanor much like that of a doting grandmother.

Harry grinned, dropping a fistful of Sickles into her hand. "A few of each, please." By this time, the witch was used to Harry's large purchases, so she simply smiled and began to hand him individually wrapped candies and pastries.

"Dig in," Harry invited the others, as the witch finished and bustled away from the compartment. All greedily dug into the large collection of sweets left on the seat next to Harry, except for Hermione, who sat across the way, looking as though she'd just swallowed something bitingly sour.

Just as Harry was working out what to say to her that would cheer her up, the compartment door slammed open, a loud bang sounding as it hit the opposite wall.

"Hello there. How are we all today?" A drawling Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, his large henchmen Crabbe and Goyle at his sides, as always. He wore an unpleasant smirk, and there was something in the way he carried himself that suggested he knew something they all did not.

"Great, and we'd like to stay that way, so if you don't mind, I'll be closing this," Harry said dismissively, moving to shut the door. Draco's hand shot out, grabbing him round the wrist.

"Tut, tut, Potter. That's not very hospitable." He released Harry, but remained in the threshold, examining him carefully with glinting blue eyes, like chips of ice in his pale face. It again hit home to Harry how different his eyes were from Kelsey's, though the color was remarkably similar.

"Remind me why we'd want to be hospitable to the likes of you," Ginny growled, standing and striding purposefully over to where Draco stood. The blonde's smirk grew even more pronounced, and he reached out to tug a lock of Ginny's crimson hair, which was curling free of its usual twin braids.

"Because," he said softly, malice woven skillfully through his voice like a silver thread in a tapestry. "I'm privy to things I'm sure you'd very much like to know."

"Keep your hands off me, you filthy snake," Ginny snapped, smacking

his hand away and scowling. Harry was struck by how much she'd grown since he'd first met her; this was no longer the meek shrinking violet he'd come to know.

Draco let out a chuckle that gave Harry the uncomfortable impression that he was actually highly amused.

"Better keep this one under your thumb, Weasley. She's getting too feisty for her own good," he said with a cold laugh.

Ginny's eyes flew wide and she launched herself at Malfoy.

"You flaming ARSE!" she shrieked in fury, even as Fred grabbed her and gently pulled her back, placing himself between her and the smug Slytherin.

"Get bent, Malfoy. We don't want you here, so if you don't fancy a good thrashing, I'd suggest leaving." His tone was calm, authoritative, and much more serious than Harry was accustomed to hearing it.

Crabbe and Goyle moved to strike at Fred, but Draco held up a hand to halt them.

"It's all right. They want us to leave. We'll oblige them…for now." He cast a chilly glance around at the others in the compartment, leered unpleasantly at Ginny, and turned on his heel.

Fred shut the compartment door forcefully behind Draco, but it luckily didn't shatter. One could see his anger in every plane of his body, and he kept looking over at Ginny, as though worried she'd suddenly start crying.

"I'm fine," Ginny said shortly, glaring at the empty glass pane of the door.

Silence fell, heavy as choking fog. Harry grabbed a carton of Bertie Bott's from the much-diminished pile next to him, and chewed thoughtfully on a peppermint-flavored bean.

"I'd like to get him good this year," he mused aloud, breaking the utter quiet. Murmurs of assent chorused from the others, and Harry grinned to himself.

_We'll just see about this, won't we?_

Harry found his way to the Gryffindor table, noticing that there was a quite different atmosphere in the Great Hall than there usually was for the first night of school. There was an unsurpassed amount of whispers, and the very air was charged with a kind of expectancy.

_I guess word has gotten out about Kelsey_, Harry thought, amused. He sat down across from Hermione, next to Ron, and waited for the ceremony to begin.

A few moments later, the Great Hall fell quiet, as Hagrid ushered in the First-Years, a nervous mass of frightened eleven-year-olds. Fortunately, nobody appeared to have fallen into the lake while traversing it to get to the castle, as Dennis Creevey had done the year before. Hagrid, beaming through his scraggly beard, took his seat at the staff table.

Following and somehow very obviously separate from the throng of preteens was a dark-haired girl, clad in the Hogwarts uniform, paired with the rather unusual accessory of fishnet leggings. Several students, not much bothered with being subtle, pointed at her, murmured to their companions, or simply gaped, but the girl answered the varying reactions with a single enthusiastic wave. If a nerve-riddled kind of excitement hadn't been fairly emanating from the girl, her lippy smile might have looked halfway nonchalant.

McGonagall led her to the staff table, at the end of which a rather rickety chair was placed. Kelsey took a seat and turned to watch the proceedings. She clapped delightedly as the Sorting Hat began to sing.

_When Hogwarts School was founded_

_The four greatest wizards of the age_

_Decided that I was to place_

_Each young and hopeful mage_

_I can tell you exactly where to go_

_To find those who'll be your truest friends_

_The house in which you'll feel at home_

_And remain until your schooling ends_

_I may put you in Gryffindor_

_The bravest of hearts here lie_

_And those with greatest courage_

_Are heralded the most high_

_Or suppose you're placed in Hufflepuff_

_If your loyalties run deep_

_You can find the hardest workers here_

_Who all more than earn their keep_

_Or you may be named a Ravenclaw_

_Where the cleverest do dwell_

_If you treasure wit and knowledge_

_Here's where you'll do well_

_Or you may belong in Slytherin_

_Where there's ambition to spare_

_These cunning folk do sometimes_

_Disregard the just and fair_

_So do not be afraid_

_I know in what house you belong_

_And never do you fear_

_I have yet to be wrong_

_So jam me tightly on your head_

_Have not a shred of reservation_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I know your perfect destination._

The end of the song met with loud applause. McGonagall crossed to the Sorting Hat, and raised a hand. The clapping died out, and the Great Hall was once again hushed in anticipation.

Lifting up the Sorting Hat with one hand, McGonagall used the other to unroll a large parchment scroll dotted with writing. Looking over at the crowd of First Years, she read the first name.

"Ablowell, Marcus." McGonagall's voice seemed strangely magnified by the general absence of whispers and background noise.

A plump blonde boy trundled up to the front of the Hall, tension apparent in the way he moved, as well as in the way his eyes roved, skittish, around the room. His size and features reminded Harry strongly of a young Dudley; this thought caused Harry to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing.

He perched his rather large backside on the stool, with some difficulty, and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. The hat did not sink down over the boy's round, pink face, so that, as the hat muttered to itself, the first-year could be seen looking around frantically.

"Better be HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat bellowed. Applause thundered through the Hall, each table but Slytherin clapping supportively.

The boy, exhausted with relief, stood rather shakily, ripped the hat off, and waddled across the room to join the Hufflepuffs at their table.

This process went on for a long while, not really catching much of Harry's interest. After all, not knowing any of the children being Sorted, it was all rather dull and repetitive. Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand, glancing up at the front of the Hall.

Thankfully, they'd soon reached the middle of the alphabet. Curiously enough, Harry noticed, next in line to be Sorted, a pale, blond little fellow, his mouth twisted into a smirk that made him appear older than his years. Harry nudged Ron.

"Check out Malfoy Jr., next in line," he murmured, watching the First Year carefully. There was something about him that Harry didn't like, aside from the fact that he was the spitting image of a younger Draco Malfoy.

After "Maffey, Jordana", a newly inducted Ravenclaw, McGonagall called the name "Malfoy, Rofon".

"I knew it, I knew he had to be a Malfoy," Harry muttered grimly to Ron. "Just _perfect_."

Harry felt a strong sense of déjà vu sweep over him, as he watched Rofon take a seat on the stool. The kid was still smirking in a most unpleasant way, as McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

Well, she really didn't seem to have actually _placed_ the hat at all. More like, it had called out "SLYTHERIN!" as quick as it could, not even touching Rofon's head. Harry frowned. _Just like when dear old Draco was Sorted_, he thought with distaste.

The boredom became almost paralyzing as the ceremony dragged through the R's…Roberts, Ronson, Rhys, and the especially unfortunate surname of Rzyack. It was all so very _slow_.

Years later, it seemed, Francine Zephyr was Sorted into Gryffindor. Rowdy cheers welcomed her, for not only was she an addition to the grand House of Gryffindor, but her Sorting marked the end of the ceremony. _Thank God,_ Harry thought gratefully.

Seconds later, a tinkling sound cut with surprising ease through the din. The Hall quieted down quickly, not sure where the glassy, musical noise was coming from.

Up at the staff table, Dumbledore rose to his feet, still tapping his goblet with his fork. His smile, though it creased his skin even further than age yet had, brought his face a young energy. Harry noted that the headmaster's piercing, sky-colored eyes were visible even from halfway down the Gryffindor table, crinkled at the edges with suppressed laughter.

"As you all may or may not know," he began, his powerful voice booming soundly throughout the large Hall and startling the last few whisperers into silence. "This year brings new opportunities to us all, here at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore motioned for Kelsey to stand. This she did in hardly the blink of an eye, jumping up out of her seat and grinning energetically down at the students she would soon be joining.

"We are bringing into our ranks a new classmate. She comes from Willowfletcher's Institute of Higher Magical Learning, a very fine academy in America." Dumbledore smiled broadly, again gesturing towards Kelsey. "This young lady will be joining our Fifth Years in all their classes. Now, before we allow Miss Modello to be Sorted, I must ask a request of all of you."

His expression became stern, and he tilted his head forward in such a way as to look over his half-moon spectacles as he scanned the room. Harry shivered slightly when Dumbledore's gaze passed over him; that look always felt like it cut you to the core, like there was nothing you could hide from those eyes.

"No matter which House she is Sorted into, you are expected to treat Miss Modello with the warmth, welcoming attitude, and kindness you were shown when _you_ were first put in your House." With that somber instruction, Dumbledore turned and smiled encouragingly at Kelsey. "Kelsey? It's time." He made a sweeping motion with his blue-clad arm towards the stool on which the Sorting Hat was once again perched.

Kelsey approached it with a quivery smile. She took a seat on the stool, tugging nervously at the hem of her gray uniform skirt.

"Ron, you okay?" Harry asked. He'd turned to speak with his best friend, only to find him looking a bit green about the gills.

"Yeah," Ron replied shortly, his eyes fixed on Kelsey.

Harry fought back a laugh. "Ron, there's no way she'll be in Slytherin. Don't worry about it."

Ron waved his hand impatiently. "Shut up, Harry! I'm trying to hear!"

Harry rolled his eyes and fell silent, watching the front of the Hall as well.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Kelsey's head. For several minutes, the hat simply sat atop her brown locks, making thinking noises such as "Hmmm" and "Ahhhh". Kelsey looked as though she were feeling faint, because every so often she would put a hand to her temple and squeeze her eyes shut.

After a few more suspenseful seconds, with mounting tension written in Kelsey's posture, expression, and tightly closed eyes, the hat gleefully roared "GRYFFINDOR!"

Kelsey's face relaxed and her easy grin returned, as the Gryffindor table exploded with cheers, whistles, and applause. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in, a little less enthusiastically, but politely showing their support all the same.

The Slytherin table, however, was a rumble of boos and hisses. Harry was slightly startled to see, in a quick glance over to the other side of the Hall, that Draco Malfoy was looking distinctly annoyed; about what, Harry couldn't even begin to wager a guess. Crabbe bent over to say something to Draco (rather slowly, of course), but all he got for his efforts was a swift smack to the back of the head.

Kelsey unsteadily walked down to the Gryffindor table; she appeared to have been put under the Jelly-Legs Curse, but Harry figured it was more likely to be a slight weakness of the knees, brought on by an intense onslaught of relief.

Kelsey searched for a place to sit, while being clapped on the back and welcomed by random Gryffindors as she passed them. She noticed the empty spot next to Ron, and collapsed onto the seat. She brushed her slightly messy hair away from her face, ran a shaky hand across her brow, and let out a loud breath.

"Wow." She laughed as she reached for an empty goblet. "How on _earth_ could you go through that when you were just _eleven_?"

Kelsey obviously did not expect an answer to this inquiry, and turned to face the trio.

"So how are you guys?" she asked genially, grinning at both Harry and Ron. Harry noticed that she did not move to hug them, as before, but thought that it would be decidedly more difficult to attempt such a greeting with a rather large wooden table in the way.

Kelsey's eyes widened as she noticed Hermione.

"I don't believe we've met!" she exclaimed with a bubbly smile. "I'm Kelsey, although I'd wager you picked up on that, what with Dumbledore's speech and all."

"Hermione Granger," the other girl stated flatly. Kelsey smiled warmly at her, seeming to be impervious to Hermione's lack of enthusiasm.

_She has about enough enthusiasm for the both of them,_ Harry thought, a smile playing at his lips.

"Soooo…are you in fifth year, too?"

Hermione nodded, an almost imperceptible movement of her head.

Harry felt a strange ire bubble in his blood. Hermione really was acting like a child. And to think she considered herself the most mature of the trio…_normally, rightly so,_ Harry admitted.

So, would she absolutely turn to _stone_ if Ron ever did _more_ than goggle at a girl? Thinking of Ron, Harry glanced over to find his best friend, predictably, staring at Kelsey with a rapt expression on his face.

Meanwhile, Kelsey was nothing but cheerful and engaging as she tried to stir up a conversation with a generally unresponsive Hermione.

"I can't believe my dad never really told me about this place! It's _gorgeous_!"

Ron purpled slightly at Kelsey's admiring exclamation, but luckily for him and Kelsey both, Hermione took no notice.

"Are there any special enchantments or anything, so Muggles don't just wander in or something?"

Hermione's entire demeanor brightened.

"Well. They bewitched the castle to look like it's a hazard; they put all these signs up everywhere saying DANGER and DO NOT ENTER and all manner of things like that. It's a pretty simple bit of magic, but it's worked for a thousand years." To Harry's relief, it seemed as though Kelsey had finally found a topic with which to tempt Hermione into a conversation.

Harry raised his goblet to his lips and enjoyed a deep draught of pumpkin juice. So far, it seemed that Kelsey was doing fine. He couldn't really figure out why it mattered to him, but the fact that she'd started a conversation within her first few minutes of meeting everyone was reassuring.

Footsteps drew up behind him, and Harry instinctively turned. It was Malfoy's pale, sneering face that greeted him.

"Hello, Potter." The greeting was as chilly as ever. "And who is this?" His voice seemed to attain warmth very quickly, as though soaking up sunlight.

Harry rolled his eyes. Even Malfoy wasn't thick enough to miss the name Dumbledore had repeated numerous times in his opening speech.

Kelsey turned, and upon seeing the Slytherin standing a few feet away, grinned flirtatiously.

"Depends on who's asking," she said coyly, looking up at Draco through her black eyelashes.

Draco grinned in return, and Harry noted in surprise that his entire face was lacking its signature smugness. Draco closed the distance between himself and Kelsey, and knelt on one knee before her.

"Draco Malfoy," he answered smoothly, lifting her hand to his lips. Harry fought not to feel nauseated. And he definitely did not want to look at Ron right now, because the redhead was likely to be twitching violently. Or preparing a nice little hex for Draco.

Kelsey giggled at what she seemed to see as chivalry. "So was that your brother Sorted earlier?"

"No, Rofon is my cousin. And I must say I was quite disappointed that _you_ were not Sorted into my House as well." _So that's why he looked so annoyed,_ Harry thought, suddenly wanting to laugh.

A blank look stole onto Kelsey's face, but was quickly replaced with a coquettish pout. "Well, what House is that? Maybe I should be disappointed, too."

Draco responded immediately. "Slytherin." His voice took on a tone of superiority. "It's the most _sophisticated_ house, of course. You would have done beautifully there."

Kelsey gave him an arch look, lips once again curving into a smile. "Surely." Suddenly, she frowned, narrowing her eyes in concentration. "I swear someone told me something about Slytherin once…" She shrugged.

"Can't remember. Can't've been that important, would you say?" Her playful grin was back.

Harry stole a look at Ron and felt a pang of sympathy. He not only looked as though he'd like to rip Malfoy's spine out through his ear, but there was a touch of hurt in his eyes. Kelsey had completely forgotten what he'd told her a week ago.

Hermione, seeming to be bored with watching Malfoy flirt shamelessly with Kelsey, looked over at Harry. Her eyes spoke volumes. _Great choice of acquaintances, Harry, really._

As Dumbledore clapped his hands, Malfoy bowed deeply to Kelsey. "The feast is going to start, so I'll get out of your way." His grin became mischievous. "We'll finish this later, you and I."

The silliest of grins spread over Kelsey's face, and she fluttered her fingers at Draco in farewell.

Harry could tell this entire discussion had made Ron fairly ill, for he was glaring at the golden plate in front of him with something like disgust. Harry couldn't really help but share the sentiment.

"Wow, you guys. That was amazing. I've been here, what, two hours?" Kelsey whispered excitedly. She turned to Harry. "Do you know Draco, Harry? I noticed that he said hello to you."

Harry didn't know her well enough to make a judgment as to whether Kelsey was as naïve as she seemed, but he feared it was anything but an act.

"I, er, know him…" Suddenly, food materialized on the platters, saving Harry from having to finish his sentence.

Kelsey gaped at the table, which was now laden with roast beef, mashed potatoes, enormous boats of gravy, piles of bread rolls, and tureens of what appeared to be vegetable soup.

"What…what just happened?" she stammered. She bent down to look under the table, then sat back upright, looking amazed. "I must look like an absolute Muggle. But…wow." She laughed as she picked up a roll and tore it open, releasing steam from its insides. "They certainly didn't feed us like _this_ at Willowfletcher's!"

Once she'd gotten over the method with which food was dispatched to the four House tables, Kelsey loaded up her plate, from edge to edge, with mashed potatoes, smothered in fragrant brown gravy. Harry couldn't help but stare for a moment, just at the sheer quantity of food Kelsey had served herself.

Raising a forkful of potatoes to her mouth, Kelsey seemed to feel his eyes on her. Harry realized too late that she noticed him looking at her plate, and Kelsey blushed rather becomingly.

"S-sorry about that. I'm starved."

Harry laughed. "There's plenty, don't worry about it." With that, he went back to devouring his own food, not having realized until he began to eat exactly how ravenous he was.

Once the need to shove his food rapidly into his mouth had abated, Harry sat back and looked up at the staff table, searching for an unfamiliar face.

He stopped scanning when he saw the slim, dark-haired woman laughing as she chatted with Hagrid.

"Ron, Hermione!" The two stopped eating and looked up. "That brunette lady next to Hagrid…I bet she's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"All right. Another year, another teacher. S'getting old, really," Ron commented, before taking a large swig of pumpkin juice.

Kelsey leaned over to listen, eyes bright.

"What do you mean? Are your Defense teachers replaced often?"

Ron snorted. "Well, we haven't had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that's lasted more than a year, at least since I've been here."

Harry spoke up, "They say there's a curse on the job."

"Wow," Kelsey said softly. "I wonder why that is?"

Harry shrugged and bit into a second roll. "Everyone does."

After the feast was over, and dessert had been eaten as well (Kelsey had nearly hyperventilated when mounds of chocolate cake and crocks of peppermint ice cream had appeared in front of her), the students all began to drift slowly back to their dorms.

Ron, Harry, Hermione and Kelsey were just rounding a bend in the hallway, when Ron groaned loudly.

"Fancy seeing you here," Draco said conversationally, addressing Kelsey.

"Hey, Draco. Did you enjoy the feast?" she asked, looking to be biting back a grin, while nonchalantly looping her arm through his.

Draco nodded, and continued to speak to Kelsey as he swept her ahead, away from the other Gryffindors.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron fingering his wand longingly.

"Mate…he's not worth it," he said by way of condolence, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

Ron sighed resignedly, and satisfied himself with glaring venomously at the blonde several paces ahead.


End file.
